I shook my head a little when Tate looked the other way. “No, he’s native. Why?”
“His face turns so red when he yells, it looks like some kind of camouflage or warning system or something.”
“Tell me about it.”
Tate droned on. All around me the aliens were drooping. They stared at the floor, shoulders slumped (the ones who had shoulders, at least), softly murmuring to themselves. It looked like a locker room after a big loss. Something told me that Tate was never going to be nominated for the Intergalactic Hotelier of the Year award.
Finally, the big man folded up his rule sheet and tucked it back into his pocket. “Aside from these minor additions to the house rules, everything will proceed as normal.”
“Minor additions?” Amy said. “Just what is left for them to do—sit on the front porch and watch the grass grow?”
Tate shook his head. “Weren’t you listening? Rule Number Seventeen: No sitting on the front porch.”
“But we definitely still get to watch the grass grow, right?” said a roundish blob of a pink alien sprawled across the love seat. “Please tell me I didn’t cross three galaxies only to miss out on that.” It was sort of refreshing to see that sarcasm extended past Earth’s atmosphere.
“That is correct.” Unfortunately, Tate didn’t really do irony. “As long as you’re watching it in the backyard at an approved time.” When the Blob rolled his eyes, they made two full revolutions around his sockets.
Tate surveyed the room. “Any more questions?”
Amy was seething, arms folded across her chest, clearly too upset to trust herself to open her mouth.
I figured I should at least try. “You realize that my grandma’s not going to like any of this, right?”
Tate harrumphed. “Well, she shouldn’t have run off with Slappypants or Sloppyface or whatever his name was.”
“But it was the chance of a lifetime!” Amy blurted out.
“Then I hope she’s enjoying it.”
The aliens were all so slumped over in defeat they looked like they were from planets where bones had never evolved. Thinking of how upset that would make Grandma gave me a shot of courage.
I stood up. “Do you even realize how much Amy and I do around here already? We can pick up the slack until Grandma gets back. Nothing has to change for the Tourists.” I glanced at Amy, encouraged by the look of renewed hope in her eyes. “We can handle it. I know we can.”
Tate was still for a long time. His voice was quiet when he finally spoke, which was somehow worse than all of his gruff bluster. “So, you think you can handle it?”
I nodded.
“Just like you handled getting a picture of those aliens on the front page of the newspaper last summer? And how you handled getting all of those TV cameras up here last week when you froze the entire river from Mount Baker all the way to Bellingham Bay?”
I sat back down. What could I say to that? But I still knew that we could do it.
“Anything else you want to handle?”
I shook my head.
Tate clapped his hands once, then rubbed them together. “Anyone else…questions? No? Good.” He glanced at his watch. “Everyone is required to meet back here at eighteen hundred hours for a predinner meeting and check-in. If anyone needs me, I will be sweeping the perimeter of the grounds and securing the building.” He stopped at the front door and addressed the crowd one more time. “Goes without saying, I’m sure, but anyone caught breaking a rule will be sent home immediately.”
“Do you promise?” said the Pink Blob.
But nobody was laughing.
The rest of the day was pretty brutal.
Amy tried to make forced quarantine as fun as possible for the Tourists. At lunchtime she made an elaborate meal for a picnic in the backyard (acceptable to Tate if held between noon and twelve forty-five and the noise level remained below fifty-five decibels, according to Rule Number Forty-two). In the evening she gathered everyone in the sitting room for something she called Earth’s Greatest Stories, and she read aloud from Grandma’s collection of classics. The aliens thought our sci-fi was pretty cheesy, of course, so she hit them with stories like “The Emperor’s New Clothes” as well as stuff with more action, like King Arthur, and the Grimm’s Fairy Tales (Kanduu and his friends liked all of the blood and gore in those).
But it just wasn’t enough to make up for all the lame new rules. In less than twenty-four hours, almost all the guests had cut their vacations short and cleared out of the bed-and-breakfast. Newly arriving Tourists must have been warned by the others, because they opted to hop back into the transporters immediately, maybe trying to salvage a last-minute vacation somewhere else.
And I suspect that’s exactly the way Tate wanted it.
Earlier in the summer he had built a combination fire escape/watchtower on the side of the house, and he spent most of the day sitting up top, like a prison warden keeping a sharp eye on the grounds. He always had a pair of binoculars with him, and if he spied anyone from town coming down our road—even just a lone jogger or a mom pushing a baby stroller—he leaned his head inside the window and blew twice on this really loud whistle. The aliens were supposed to go hide in their rooms until he deemed the coast was clear (which he indicated by blowing four times on that stupid whistle).
He only climbed down from his tower long enough to install security cameras on each corner of the house. I don’t know how long he’d had them in storage, just waiting to mount them up there like black mechanical gargoyles watching every movement, but I do know that Grandma would never have allowed it.
My guess was they were just for show, to make anybody prowling around think twice. In fact, the cameras probably weren’t even hooked up—I’d be surprised if Tate actually knew anything about electronics. But they were big and clunky and obvious, so maybe they would work to scare someone off. Just like Tate seemed to be scaring off most of our business.
By the second day of his reign, the house was pretty much empty except for Mrs. Crowzen and her class on the second floor, and the Arkamendian Air Painters on the third. On the fourth floor there were only Cottage Cheese Head and the Pink Blob (which, by the way, would be a pretty cool name for a rock band).
I had to do something soon, or else Grandma was going to come back to an empty house. And if word got out about how boring the place had become, who knew how long it would take before it filled up again?
But…well, it was kind of her fault. I mean, it was hard not to be annoyed that Grandma hadn’t trusted Amy and me with more responsibilities when she left. After all the work we’d done around here, it wasn’t like we were your typical middle schoolers with a summer job like babysitting or picking berries. And she had to know how messed up everything would get with Tate in charge.
She just left him the keys to the place because he’s a grown-up. And that’s…what do you call it? Ageism. That’s what it is. Blatant ageism.
I knew that Amy and I could run this place all by ourselves way better than Tate ever could.
“Yee-ha?” Kanduu said, running his fingers along the brim of the white cowboy hat. “Is that the correct pronunciation of this earthling interjection? Yee-ha? It sounds kind of silly.”
“Well, you might be, like, overthinking it a little. It’s not really a word, just sort of a noise you’re supposed to let loose while you’re riding.” I grabbed the hat and whipped it around over my head. “Yeeeee-haw!” I tossed the hat back. “Like that.”
“Okay…and that’s supposed to help somehow?”
“I guess. That’s how all the cowboys do it.”
“Hmmmmm.” Kanduu put the hat back on, and his head instantly turned white to match. “Isn’t riding an Earth cow pretty easy, though? The ones Amy showed us looked very tame. They hardly moved at all.”
“What? No. Cowboys don’t ride cows. They ride horses.”
“Then why don’t they call them horseboys? Earthlings are weird.”
“Yeah, you’ve menti
oned that a time or two. Look, do you want to do this or not?”
Kanduu looked at Snarffle, who was panting heavily and bouncing up and down in anticipation. All his pent-up energy from being cooped up in the house gave him a crazed expression. More crazed than usual, I should say.
Kanduu tiptoed over and reached out to test the makeshift saddle—a couch cushion strapped on with bungee cords—perched snugly on top of Snarffle’s back.
“So it’s on there pretty tight?” he said.
“Totally.”
Kanduu nodded, studying Snarffle and his saddle, but he still didn’t get on.
“Hurry up!” said one of the slime-drippers. “David, if he doesn’t go, it’s my turn next.”
“No way, it’s mine,” said another little guy, the one with the leathery reptile skin.
The four boy aliens were bouncing almost as much as Snarffle in their excitement to get started.
It had been Amy’s idea to split up for the afternoon—her taking the girls, and me with the boys—to try to entertain the kids while Mrs. Crowzen took a well-deserved nap.
I had no idea what Amy’s plans were, but my goal was to think of something that I would have found really fun when I was little. It’s hard to come up with a cool, rambunctious activity when you’re stuck inside the house.
But I did: Snarffle Rodeo.
“Are you ready, bud?” I asked Kanduu. “Or should we give someone else the first crack at it?”
He still wasn’t too sure. But then Snarffle gave him a big lick across the cheek (Kanduu’s face briefly flaring purple with the contact) and a goofy dog-smile. Kanduu nodded. “I’m ready.”
Kanduu jumped onto Snarffle’s back, his body turning brown to match the saddle. I handed him the bungee reins, started the stopwatch function on my phone, then gave Snarffle a light smack across his pattern of blue dots.
That purple beach-ball body launched forward at laser speed. Snarffle did a half dozen blurry revolutions around the room before scampering up the wall. He clung to the walls, circling over the heads of the cheering boy aliens, before doing figure eights across the ceiling.
Kanduu threw his head back and laughed, and even managed to hold on with one hand while the other whipped his hat around in the air. “Haw-yeeeeee-HOO!”
“That’s close enough,” I shouted. “Ride ’em, horseboy!”
Snarffle leaped from the ceiling to the back of the couch. His body tilted on impact as his feet tried to grip the narrow landing strip of furniture, and Kanduu was thrown off. He crashed softly, sinking into all of the throw pillows and winter coats we had put on the floor for padding.
Kanduu popped back up. “That was better than a bag full of krakklefrax!” he said, beaming as his classmates cheered for him.
I looked at the stopwatch. “Thirty-two seconds,” I announced.
“Is that good?”
“Good? Professional rodeo guys who ride the bucking broncos aim for eight seconds, and those things are nowhere near as wild as Snarffle,” I told him. “It’s better than good. It’s a universe-wide record.” Kanduu waved the hat over his head triumphantly. I looked over at the rest of the boys. “Thirty-two seconds is the time to beat. Who wants to try?”
There was a blur of colors and scales and flying specks of slime as all the boy aliens waved their appendages in the air. I pointed to the reptilian kid. “You’re up.” The rest of them groaned as the gray, leather-skinned boy raced over to Snarffle and climbed up into the saddle. I strapped him in, making sure to—
“What’s going on? I thought we were having an earthquake, the way the whole house was shaking.” Amy stood in the doorway, scanning the room. It probably looked like burglars had just ransacked the place. “What are you guys doing?”
“Oh, you know, just hanging out.”
“What’s that on Snarffle’s back?”
The purple alien’s long tongue wagged at the mention of his name, splattering slobber drops everywhere.
“It’s a saddle, okay?” I cleared my throat. “For educational purposes. I was teaching them about the customs of the Earth rodeo.”
“Seriously?” Amy’s eyes narrowed as she noticed Snarffle’s footprints on the wall and the lamp he had knocked over. “David, you were supposed to entertain them, not try to kill them.”
I shrugged. “With boys, it’s pretty much the same thing.” Amy didn’t really think that was funny. I pressed on. “Come on, look at all the pillows. It’s fine.”
She sighed. “Look, I know you don’t want to hear this—and I know my dad takes it way too far—but without your grandma here, I think we need to be extra responsible.”
“You don’t think I’m responsible?” Remember when I saved the world that one time? Like, last week?
Amy gestured at the messy room. “You tell me.” Then she crossed her arms over her chest in a gesture that reminded me of a certain Head of Security around here. Whose side was she on, anyway?
“Just because you were working here all school year while I was back in Florida doesn’t mean you’re any better than—”
“Oh, please, David. I’m not saying anything like that. I just…when I asked you to think of something gender-appropriate, I didn’t mean that you should—”
“But this is what gender-appropriate means! It’s the kind of thing boys like. On any planet.”
Amy rolled her eyes. “Fine. But that doesn’t make it—”
“Hey, that looks kind of like a saddle for a flubble beast.” One of the girl aliens—a squat little thing with shiny pink skin—poked her head around Amy’s leg. “Are they riding Snarffle? Really?”
The three girls squealed and rushed past Amy, spilling into the rec room.
“Can I go next?”
“No, me!”
“I bet we’ll be better at riding him than any of the boys.”
“Yeah!”
Even timid little Kandeel seemed excited by the prospect. I think Snarffle was the only thing she liked about this planet.
I smirked at Amy. It was difficult to keep myself from saying I told you so, but I managed. “What can I say? I guess awesomeness knows no gender.”
To her credit, Amy smiled back. “It actually does look pretty fun.”
I really shouldn’t blame her for being related to Tate—it’s not like she had a choice in the matter.
“Sorry I got mad,” I said.
“Me too.”
Kanduu stepped between us. “Are you going to do that thing now where human males and females mash their faces together, connected by their speech organs?”
“Yeah! We saw you two doing that behind a tree in the backyard yesterday,” one of the slime-drippers said. “It was hilarious!”
All the kids buzzed with laughter and made exaggerated kissy-faces. Amy’s face turned as red as mine felt.
“Let’s just play the game, okay?” I said, probably too loud. “Who’s next?”
So it became the Boys vs. Girls Rodeo Roundup. All the kids took turns, and we put up a sheet of paper to post the times, and there was lots of cheering and booing and general craziness. It was the best time anyone had had since Grandma left.
Until Tate burst into the room, his face white and his breathing ragged.
Great. I braced myself for a lecture, wondering how many of the new rules we had managed to violate in one afternoon.
But Tate hardly seemed to notice the mess, or the saddle, or anything else in the room.
“Dad?” Amy’s voice was concerned. “What’s wrong?”
But he looked right at me instead. “It’s your grandmother. She’s in danger.”
Amy and I rushed after Tate down the hallway, spouting questions that he waved away.
“You gotta see it for yourself.”
“See what?” we asked.
“You’ll see.”
We followed him into the sitting room. He pointed at Grandma’s ancient TV, encased in a wooden frame just like the stereo was. It’s hardly ever on, so I had sort of f
orgotten it was even there.
Tate crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the blank screen. Ever since Grandma had left, his nasty habit of chewing on toothpicks had gotten worse, and a soggy one hung out the side of his mouth. He was chomping them so hard he was probably going through two boxes a day.
The screen remained black. “Dad?” Amy said after a few quiet moments. “Is there a reason we’re—”
“Hush.” He pointed at the TV again, as if we were having trouble locating it.
So we looked at the blank screen with him. An awkward minute passed. Then another. I cleared my throat. “Um…you know that you need to actually turn it on if you want to watch some—”
“Hush!”
A few moments later the screen glowed without anyone hitting the power switch. Weird. The image was fuzzy and the sound was just a static hiss. I was starting to get some serious horror movie vibes.
“Watch this,” Tate said. As if we had a choice. “It comes on every couple a minutes.”
A shape drifted into half focus. I figured we must have been looking at an alien, because its clothing was all loops and swirls and pinwheels, a crazy-looking getup that no human would ever consider putting on—
“It’s your grandma!” said Amy.
—except maybe that human.
I squinted. Amy was right. The picture sharpened a bit, and there was Grandma, smiling and waving right at us in that weird outfit. It looked like she was really getting into the spirit of her extraterrestrial holiday.
Then her lips started moving, but no sound came out. The image skipped, jagged lines of interference jumping all around the screen. When Tate banged the side of the TV with his fist, the audio crackled and we could make out snippets of Grandma’s message.
“…don’t know if you’re receiving this, but wanted to tell you…they’re keeping me…shortage of food…miss you all…can’t wait…forget about me!”
She smiled and waved some more, all her flamboyant accessories bouncing and rattling around her head and shoulders, and then the picture cut out entirely.
“You had me worried there for a minute, Dad.” Amy let out a sigh of relief. “It’s really good to see her, but I wish the sound wasn’t so spotty. Oh, I can’t wait to hear all about the trip when she gets back!”
Aliens in Disguise Page 6
